When it rains
by sinking m
Summary: Is it possible to keep your feelings hidden if it rains every time you lie? Jim is going to find out.


**The idea came from John Chu's short story "The Water That Falls on You from Nowhere". It's emotional and sweet. I really recommend it.**

 **English is not my first language. Many thanks to my beta JustLove201 for keeping it under control.  
**

Jim feels the water seeping into his hair, forming thin rivulets that that trickle down his neck under the collar of his uniform. The coldness makes him shiver. He passes his hand over his face wiping off the raindrops. A few of them land on the PADD in his lap. Some letters get magnified, while others turn into ugly blotches, now the report looks like a child's scribbles.

Nyota offers him a sympathetic, if slightly amused, smile. Sulu and Chekov exchange a conspiratorial glance. It's quite possible that they have a running bet on how many times he'll play a rain god by the end of the shift. Spock is looking serene at his console.

Jim picks up the towel that Rand has brought him and dabs his neck dry.

This fucking rain is driving him mad. It's been only twenty-four hours, but he's gotten rained on eleven times already. Okay, half of them happened when he was testing what kind of lies triggered the rain. It turned out that you should be pretty literal to stay dry. And not literal like in "I could literally eat a horse right now". His current predicament has been caused by a careless "I'm dying to test them" to Scotty, who reported on the planned modifications to the transporter.

Scotty quickly figures out the cause of the soft patting sound at the other end of the communicator.

"Got that rain thingy again, Captain?"

"Yep. And it's annoying as—" All of a sudden Jim gets acutely aware of the water dropping from his hair onto his lap and goes for a safer variant. "It's _very_ annoying."

"We're lucky it's not the old days. We'd have to deal with rust then."

"Let's be grateful for small mercies. Okay, Mr. Scott, carry on. Kirk out." Jim flips his communicator shut, runs his hand through his damp hair and sighs.

Considering all the mishaps he has been involved in due to cultural differences – and all that just over two years of their deep-space mission – he shouldn't have as much as blinked at yet another strange notion of hospitality. Besides, he had two years of Xenoanthropology to get used to the idea that hardly anything is universal.

Quite often, the first contact boils down to negotiations with higher-ups, followed by a festive ceremony. However, sometimes things go awry. And this includes all kinds of shitty situations, from attacks the moment they beam down to the infiltrators getting onboard the Enterprise. Well, festive ceremonies can stand out as well.

For example, just last month Jim failed to weasel out of the 'union-bonding' ceremony with his First Officer, which was suspiciously similar to a wedding. He was thankful for Spock's dry humor that helped to disperse the uneasiness that threatened to settle afterwards. A month before that Jim was "deemed worthy" of a battle with the strongest warrior in the native tribe. If the tribe had heard one third of all the names Bones called them while treating Jim's wounds, they would definitely have extended their invitation for a battle to him too. On Mundahla, as a token of friendship, the senior staff were painted with tattoos akin to the ones of the hosts had. Alright, it was kind of awesome. For a while. But the tattoos were glowing in the dark, and jokes about "glowing with happiness" and suggestions to "brighten up" soon lost their appeal.

This time the hosts are so glad with the results of the negotiations that they decide to bestow the Gift of Pure Truth (yes, Jim's hears every damn capital letter in it) upon the landing team, which includes Jim, Spock, Nyota and a couple of redshirts. In their clicking language, the representatives explain that it will grant them the ability to resist the lures of deception. Having read the briefing information, Jim knows that the natives attach great importance to being truthful in all situations. However, it comes as an unpleasant surprise that any straying from the truth is punished by a bone-chilling rain.

The other thing he has to come to terms is the abundance of metaphors in English. Jim has never given it much thought how figurative English is. It's rather annoying that any deviation from literal meanings triggers the rain. According to Nyota, this can be explained by lack of metaphors in the native language of Kylata II.

Nyota, being a linguistic ninja, seems to have no trouble avoiding the traps. Spock, who has spent his life proving that "Vulcans do not lie" while surreptitiously doing exactly so, hasn't been drenched even once. But Jim confirms his reputation as a loudmouth and causes enough rain for a compact tropical forest.

These twelve hours make him realize that half-truths are his modi operandi. The pure unadulterated truth often leaves him too raw and vulnerable, and he doesn't feel comfortable about it. At all.

Also, Jim can't bullshit the rain the way he bullshits himself. All the thoughts he kept from floating up to the surface, all the tendrils of unwanted feelings he has been clipping—all this uncomfortable truth fractures the shell of self-deceit and splatters around in cold leaden drops.

That's why he decides to try and keep to himself until the rain-thing goes away. The people of Kylata II have told them that the Gift is granted for about five or six days. Jim would rather sacrifice some of his social life for this period of time rather than risk destroying what he's got. This is the reason why he doesn't invite Spock for a game of chess later and instead rushes to his quarters straight away after the shift.

He changes into a dry T-shirt and sweatpants, but is unable to relax, feeling restless and jumpy. Catching himself pacing the room, Jim decided to have a walk. Having wandered around the corridors and halls for half an hour, he ends up on the Observation desk. The wave of inexplicable yearning crashes over him. It's been a long day, especially because he couldn't hide behind words as he often does.

Jim comes up to the window, presses his forehead against the glass, and watches the distant stars glimmering, mocking, teasing him. He's always found something both disturbing and mesmerizing about space. Its vastness and indifference takes his breath away. Space is just there, around him. Beckoning and grounding. Energizing and soothing. A siren call.

When Jim notices that his eyelids are beginning to droop, he pulls himself together and heads back to his quarters.

...

In the morning Jim wakes up feeling right as rain. There goes the first pun of the day. He still has twenty minutes before his alarm, but feeling well-rested he decides to start his day early. Jim throws the blanket aside and hops out of bed, all the worries of the previous day forgotten. Besides, Jim is pretty sure that he has worked out the perfect balance between the truth and a lie, and the rain won't trouble him much today.

He goes to the bathroom whistling tunelessly.

When he enters the mess hall, it strikes him how empty it is at this hour. There are just a couple of ensigns and a blurry-eyed engineer nursing a cup of coffee. He grins and nods at their "G'morning, Captain!" before replicating a turkey sandwich and a Vulcan tea he's grown to like. He swallows his food down and feels vaguely relieved that Bones isn't here to see it. Heading for the bridge, he relishes the spring in his step.

Bursting with energy, Jim arrives at the bridge and takes the conn. Ten minutes later the doors swish open, and of course it's Spock—his shirt pristine, his hair trimmed and groomed. If he's surprised to see Jim earlier than usual he doesn't show it. Soon the rest of the crew come to relieve their counterparts.

The shift runs smoothly. Not a single raindrop lands on him. The only embarrassing moment that throws him off his game is when he catches himself staring at Spock bent over his console. Jim checks guiltily whether anyone has noticed his slip. But everyone seems absorbed in their work. He makes himself a promise not to let his attention wander like that in the future. He suspects that it's not the first time he promises this to himself. It's just too easy to get engrossed in watching Spock work—his work never short of exemplary. "You know what else is exemplary," says a nasty tiny voice in his head, "those muscles flexing under his uniform." Irritably, Jim runs a hand through his hair.

As a Captain, as a friend he can't—he shouldn't—it is just unbecoming to impose himself on his colleague and friend. What if that would cost him their friendship? What if their relationship would get strained? The stakes are too high.

Again, the moment the shift's over, Jim hurries out – better not to test his luck.

He can't help tapping his foot waiting for the turbolift to open. There is a definite need to get rid of the excess energy. Some physical exercise is in order.

He's kind of tired of the gym and breaks his routine by going to the swimming pool. The fact that he hasn't caused any rain today makes it easier to come to terms with water element.

...

There is something soothing about the water making way for him. Precise strokes cutting through it effortlessly. He enjoys how light he feels when swimming. Besides, it's quiet and peaceful here. It reminds him a bit of a sea cave. The water is splashing gently against the borders, the light is dancing on the bottom of the pool, the soft sounds made by water are reflected by the walls. He feels isolated, but in a good way. He wonders whether Spock would find it suitable for meditation.

Having done sixty-six lengths, he is resting at the pool edge when he hears the door opening.

Turning his head, he sees Spock looking at the water with some apprehension. He's still in his uniform. Jim's aware that Spock doesn't care much for water, and he's surprised to see him here, in the swimming pool.

After giving a final disapproving glance at the affronting element, he blinks and turns towards Jim.

"Are you replenishing the stocks of water, Jim?" Spock says with a perfectly blank face.

It might have fooled him at the beginning of the mission. But now he can tell when he's being sassed by the Vulcan.

"If you come a little bit closer, you might just find out," he retorts.

"I do not find this idea agreeable." Spock pauses and stares at him for a bit.

Jim wonders what has brought Spock here. It couldn't be an urgent need for some banter, could it?

Spock clears his throat delicately. "It seems that you have been avoiding me. Is something amiss?"

Oh, how Jim would love to deny it, but he doesn't want to actually _replenish_ the water in the swimming pool—thank you very much. So, he opts for a half-truth. Fingers crossed, it'll do.

"It's that rain thing. It really gets on my nerves." He might be imagining it but the air starts to smell ozone-ish.

Spock doesn't look particularly appeased by his answer.

"If the phenomenon makes you concerned about the security of your private information, I can refrain from any queries of personal nature." There appears a small crease between his eyebrows when Jim doesn't immediately contradict his assumption, but Spock continues, "We could concentrate on the game itself. Would you be amenable to this suggestion?"

Jim nods decisively, trying to compensate for his floundering.

"I'd love to play with you. Does 20.30 work for you?"

"Affirmative."

"I'm sure I'll beat you tonight, Mister." Jim winks.

"I doubt the validity of your prediction. I intend to be victorious in this game." Spock's lips curl up. His tense shoulders relax, and generally he looks more at ease than at the start of their conversation. Jim makes a point to congratulate himself on this.

"We'll see about that."

Jim expects Spock to leave him to finish his work-out. But he is still standing there, seemingly no longer troubled by the proximity of water, quite the opposite—for some reason, fascinated with the ripples created by Jim fidgeting at the edge of the pool.

"Would you like to join me?" Jim stifles his childish desire to splash some water.

Spock blinks, his glance moves up.

"I—I am going back to my quarters. I shall expect you at 20.30." He turns and leaves, his quick steps echoing in the hall.

...

Jim places his rook and glances up at Spock, catching him watching him—no, absorbing him with his eyes. Is it a psychological trick to unnerve him? Spock has never really been one for using tricks or distractions like these.

"Have you figured out my strategy yet?"

"I am prone to thinking that you have no particular strategy, Jim."

"We'll get back to that 'no particular strategy' when I checkmate you." A single raindrop hits his nose. He wipes it inconspicuously.

They play in an amicable silence for a while. It's a very tight game, neither of them gaining an upper hand for long.

When Jim looks at the chronometer, it's almost 11. Spock follows his glance.

"It is already late. I believe it would be wise to continue our game at another time."

"Oh yeah. We need some rest. Early shift tomorrow." Jim stretches and feels tired, as if all the worries of the day have finally caught up with him.

Spock stops him on the way to the bathroom door.

"I am gratified for your company today. I wish you would never avoid my presence in the future. We could always address an issue and discuss it if—if  
something causes discontent."

Jim is momentarily rendered speechless by the earnest expression on Spock's face.

"Yes, sure, Spock. Communication is the key." He smiles faintly.

Later, lying in his bed, Jim can't stop replaying in his mind how Spock put his hand on his forearm to attract his attention.

...

Jim sees Spock making way to his table. He looks both charmingly and ridiculously concentrated on the simple task of balancing his tray. Well, in fact, having studied Spock's miniscule expressions for some time, Jim's convinced that this stern and focused look usually comes out when Spock is ill at ease. However, there's not any apparent reason for this in the mess hall this morning.

"Good morning, Jim." Spock takes the seat opposite him. The tip of Spock's shoe touches lightly his left shoe under the table.

It's common for Spock to use his first name. But as a rule it's limited to private moments rather than a conversation in a public place. Jim masks his surprise with a smile.

"Morning, Spock."

Jim plunges his spoon into the oatmeal and frowns pensively. Spock has been acting kind of strange lately. Maybe not strange, but different. He would say—eager. More involved. Yeah, there's always been camaraderie between them. But it was Jim who took the initiative. He often worried that he was too clingy, too intrusive. And now after nearly two days of Jim's self-imposed no-communication-outside-work-hours rule, Spock makes an effort to spend more time with him. Perhaps, he's just overthinking things.

Jim swallows the spoonful of porridge.

"Spock, have you received the instructions today?"

"Affirmative. We are to wait for the precipitation effect to stop, as it may have a negative impact on our diplomatic functions." Spock's eyes sparkle.

Jim has an unpleasant suspicion that at the moment Spock is savoring the embarrassing moments when his Captain got wet in the rain.

"Yeah, they also want to know the results of the study. So, where are you guys at?"

"We have determined the range of the catalysts. The exact process needs to be examined further."

"Okay, keep up the good work."

Spock non-smiles.

...

Two more days pass. The rain thing hasn't worn off yet. Jim has tested it using the phrases such as "I love vegetables", "Bones is the most optimistic guy in the world" and "I'm not attracted to Spock". Each time he was rewarded with a cold drizzle.

On the second day, having finished the shift, Jim and Spock are in the turbolift when Spock turns to him and asks, eyes boring into his.

"Jim, would you be interested in watching a recreational movie in my quarters?"

That's new. What about chess?

"What about chess?" Jim asks.

"I—" Spock falters. "I would welcome a change in the parameters of our meetings."

Jim isn't sure he understands, but he's too happy to spend time with Spock to question his motives.

"Okay. Why not? Can I come over in an hour?"

"This time is acceptable. Do you have any preferences regarding the selection of the movie?"

The turbolift doors slide open, and they head for the quarters.

"Nah. Surprise me." Again, Jim adds in his mind.

Spock and "recreational movies"—It's not that he doesn't believe Spock could enjoy a movie. But prefer a movie to chess? That _is_ unexpected. "Maybe he's bored? Maybe I'm not enough of a challenge to him?" Jim's brow furrows. "No, that can't be true. I win almost half of the games".

Spock stops briefly in front of the door leading to his quarters.

"I anticipate your visit, Jim. I will acquire a movie and make the necessary arrangements."

"Right-o. I will be there in an hour."

The hour stretches into eternity. Would this cause a rain if he said it out loud? He's not too eager to test that, as he's just changed into a _dry_ t-shirt and jeans. The nervous energy is building up, making him want to pace the room. Instead he replicates a glass of water and forces himself to sit down and finish up the report to the admiralty. When he looks up from the PADD, it's time to go.

Jim enters the bathroom and hits the buzzer for the connecting door. Spock opens right away.

He's dressed in a soft looking black T-shirt and black pants. It's not the first time Jim has seen Spock in casual clothes. But it still catches him off guard when he gets this kind of proof that Spock feels comfortable in his presence.

"Jim, please come in." With a light touch to his arm Spock directs him to the sofa. There is a blanket folded neatly and a couple of cushions. Were they here when he last played chess in Spock's quarters? He's even more surprised to see a glass of soda and a bowl of popcorn on the table in front of the sofa.

"Wow, Spock. I see that you're well-prepared for a classical movie night."

Spock's lips do this non-smiling thing that always makes Jim feel a strange flutter in his stomach.

"I was concerned whether I would be able to create the appropriate atmosphere. I am gratified to know that I have succeeded. Please take a seat while I replicate a tea for myself. Do you require anything else?"

"No, thanks. Soda and popcorn will be just fine." Jim sits down on the sofa grinning.

Who would have guessed? They had movie nights with Bones sometimes, but Spock—it is familiar and somehow new at the same time. "I wonder, what's Spock's idea of a recreational movie?" Jim scoots closer to the armrest, remembering to allow Spock to have more private space. However, when Spock joins Jim on the sofa with his tea, he places himself quite close.

The movie turns out to be about a team of marine biologists exploring the depths of the ocean. Jim finds lots of similarities with their own journey into the dark recesses of space, and it makes him smile. At the same time, the film is thrilling and intense, some moments making him tighten his grip on the glass of soda. Now and again his hand dives into the bowl of popcorn. To his surprise, Spock eats it too. Once, for a heart-stopping second, Spock's fingers graze against his own. Jim has to push down the ridiculous thought that it kinda resembles a date rather than a friends' get-together. To his dismay, this rebellious thought is also getting fueled by the glances Spock is giving him.

Jim realizes they have moved closer to each other, and his thigh is pressed against Spock's. Jim feels the heat radiating from him and the firm muscles hidden under the pants. And yes, the feeling is incredible. "Better do something and quick before Spock notices," he thinks. "Why the fuck is the Universe testing me like this?" He fidgets a little and tries to backs off without being too obvious about it.

It doesn't work with Spock. He immediately fixes him with a stare.

"Are you not comfortable, Jim?"

"No, I'm fine. Just my leg's gone numb."

Something softly taps his hair. Drops of water start pattering on his face and neck. Jim sighs. Damn it, he thought he had this under control.

"Let me assist you."

Spock takes a blanket from the sofa and carefully wraps him up. All wrapped up, with Spock's eyes directed at him, Jim feels like a contented burrito. This close to Spock Jim sees a couple of freckles on his nose. He wants to reach out and touch them—one, two, then up to the eyebrows, trace their shape with his finger. He's sane enough to suppress this impulse.

Spock is looking at him as if he's admiring his handiwork. The moment rings tender and domestic. It's strange and new to be cared for like this, and Jim is afraid that he could easily get used to it.

In a couple of minutes the rain stops.

"I'm sorry for making a mess of your couch."

"Do not concern yourself over the state of the couch. However, I should express a concern at the thought that you would prefer to not tell the truth. I wish you would remember that you can always trust me."

"I'm sorry, Spock. And of course, I trust you. It's just that sometimes it seems easier to—to brush aside some truths." Jim tugs at the corner of the blanket.

"I can see your reasoning behind this action." Spock looks down at his hands and pauses. "In fact, I have concluded that I was not sufficiently clear when I suggested watching a movie in a company of each other." Spock sounds deliciously breathless. "It was not my sole intention to change the type of activity we engage in rather than propose including the romantic and sexual aspects to our relationship. Without doubt, the misunderstanding was caused by my reticence to reveal the truth so unequivocally."

"Does it mean that you asked me out on a date—and this is a date?" Jim's voice sounds foreign to his own ears.

"Affirmative." Spock looks up at him, his eyes searching. "Jim, the contact with the native species of Kylata II and the precipitation effect have made me realize that self-deceit can be limiting to one's personality. In addition, you distanced yourself from me after the mission, and this was—this is excruciating."

For a moment it is like Jim is outside of himself. He sees himself sitting close to Spock, spell-bound by his words and gaze.

"I was afraid to believe." Jim says in awe.

There's a gleam of affection in Spock's eyes that tells him everything he's ever wanted to hear.

Jim puts his hand on Spock's shoulder and lets it slide down and cover his palm. Spock turns his hand and intertwines their fingers gently, giving Jim a burst of raw happiness. He laughs in delight and squeezes Spock's hand a little. He's further delighted to see Spock's lips slightly part.

Before leaning in for a kiss, Jim tells Spock.

"This is absolutely perfect."

"I completely agree with you," says Spock, his face lit up.

And there is no rain. And why on earth would there be?


End file.
